Fire and Ice
by charmedatmidnight
Summary: At the height of the first war, Remus has grown used to the cold, but Sirius is like fire. Mildly inspired by the song 'The Ice Is Getting Thinner' by Death Cab For Cutie. The prompt for this one was: kiss. Reviews and feedback always welcome. Enjoy! :D


Remus lies in bed alone. Again. It seems the other half of the bed is empty more often than not these days. It used to bother him, but he's gotten used to not having that comforting warmth beside him, that feeling of safety, of being at home. Besides, he doesn't see why he should be allowed to feel comfortable and safe when the world is anything but, when no one else has such a luxury. That wouldn't be fair, and he hardly believes that he deserves any better than anyone else.

But even though he has grown used to falling asleep alone, that doesn't ease the difficulty with which he falls asleep nowadays. Remus pushes himself up, blanket falling from his bare chest to rest across his lap. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and his feet hit the cool floor. Somehow the room is always colder when he's alone.

He wants to believe that Sirius will walk through the door at any moment. He wants to believe that he will even come home. He wants to believe that he won't be alone tonight. He used to believe. He used to have hope. But he never liked the disappointment that came with it. He's resigned himself to believing that Sirius is at least alive somewhere, but he knows that one day even that will leave him with disappointment.

Remus is pulled from his reverie by the soft thump of the door to the flat being closed. He can hear shuffling around as he imagines Sirius shrugging out of his jacket and letting it fall to the floor. He can almost see him drawing his wand to perform the spells to lock the door before he trips over his discarded jacket with a soft _shit_. He can picture the way he saunters into the kitchen for a quick glass of firewhiskey to soothe himself as he always does when returning from a mission, or wherever he's been the past few days. Remus is never sure anymore.

He hears soft footsteps approach the bedroom door and the too loud click as it is opened. The footsteps stop and Remus doesn't need to look to know that Sirius is surprised to see him up.

"Remus," comes the barely audible yet all too loud greeting from the doorway. Remus merely glances over his shoulder in response. There really isn't anything to say. "Did I wake you?"

Sirius pads across the floor to the bed, tugging off his shirt as he goes. Remus almost has to look away.

"Couldn't sleep," he answers just as quietly, afraid that if he speaks much louder then something will break, then the ice will crack and they will both fall into its merciless depths once and for all.

"Oh."

Remus can feel the bed shift slightly as Sirius sits and kicks off his combat boots. He looks away. Sometimes it's too much to even look at the other man now.

Remus closes his eyes. Even though he's not alone, it's still cold. The room is cold, he is cold, everything's cold. He yearns for warmth, to not be freezing, but he knows it's daft to yearn for such a thing if he can't feel the warmth with Sirius there. It's been like that since James and Lily had gone into hiding, though. Remus had hoped the chill would disappear, but it never did. It stayed, clinging to him, growing, surrounding him until all he knew was ice, ice that with one hit would crack and break and send him falling into frozen oblivion.

But all of a sudden it's far too warm. All of a sudden he feels a hand on his shoulder, burning into his skin. Another slides over his back, leaving a trail in its wake. Suddenly Remus is on fire. The heat is suffocating him. It's too much, but it will never be enough. Lips are near his ear, kissing over it and down the side of his neck, muttering _sorry_ over and over and over against his skin until each apology runs into the next and it is a never-ending chain of _sorry's_ . Remus wants to ask what there is to be sorry for, but he knows that he doesn't really want to know the answer. No, he wants to let himself melt beneath Sirius' touch, to give himself over to the flames that lick at his skin. But he was never one to play with fire, even though it seems that's all he's been doing lately. Sirius always did make him feel more adventurous, though.

Sirius' lips slide up over his neck and Remus willingly-or maybe not willingly; he doesn't really know anymore-turns his head to capture his lips in a needy kiss. Sirius' arms wrap around his waist and all Remus can feel is heat. Heat, fire, flames, threatening to engulf him, to burn him, and he wants to let it happen. He wants to give himself over even if he'll end up scorched.

And as a tongue swipes over his lower lip, Remus can longer fight it. He knows that he'll be hurt in the end, that letting the fire take over will only allow the ice to return with more strength, but he can't find it in himself to care in that moment. He always knew Sirius would hurt him in the end. It's always been inevitable. But, for the time being, he allows himself to be warm.


End file.
